


Had to Leave Myself Behind

by nubianamy



Series: All I Know is Who I've Become [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Backstory, M/M, Sexual Experimentation, Why FN-2003 is clumsy, Why stormtroopers don't have sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When FN-2187 and FN-2003 become stranded on an alien world during a training mission, they discover some uncomfortable truths about how the First Order has been controlling their lives. Finn/Slip backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wondered, "If stormtroopers live in barracks together their whole lives, how is it possible none of them are having sex with one another?" This story answers that question. It also sets up the Finn backstory for my larger TFA series, still in progress. 
> 
> The story begins with Slip having a different nickname, because I didn't like the canon explanation for Slip's incompetence. I have handled that here, too.
> 
> Yes, it's hard to write stormtrooper p*rn when none of them have names (or know useful slang words for genitals), but I managed.

It wasn’t the first time Captain Phasma had hauled the all the trainee fire-teams to a Type-1 world to run training scenarios. _Retrieve the cargo package and return to base_ was vague enough that FN-2187 felt like he should ask clarifying questions, although none were permitted. _What’s in the package_ would have been question number one, although in this case he was sure the answer was _nothing important._ Come to think of it, that was probably the answer they would have received if this had been an actual mission.

FN-2187 waited in the makeshift tent barracks for his blaster to charge. According to the chrono in his helmet, he’d already been there fifty-seven standard minutes. He could deal with waiting, but it was unsettling to be out of contact with the other three members of his fire-team for that length of time. He couldn’t help thinking about the all the terrible things that might be happening to them. Closing his eyes, he ran through the hand-to-hand combat sequences they’d learned last week in his head, trying to occupy his restless mind.

“Hey.” FN-2187 looked up quickly at the touch on his arm. ID tags projected into his visor quickly identified the trooper as FN-1923. “Commander K-31 says your fire team’s running into difficulty. He wants to know if you’re ready to proceed?”

Judging by the low charge on his blaster, the answer was _no,_ but FN-2187 couldn’t exactly answer a superior officer that way. He shrugged and hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the uneasy tremor in his gut. “I guess I’d better be. This wasn’t part of the drill.”

“No, I think this is off-script.” FN-1923’s tone was dubious, but there wasn’t much else she could say, not while she was on duty. “You think they’re doing it on purpose, breaking up the teams like this?”

“Probably. Am I allowed to switch out my blaster for one with a better charge?”

“You really want to ask?”

He stifled a sigh. “Forget it. I have enough for a few more shots. What’s the situation?”

“Unknown. Commander K-31 said your other three members are out of range. The trees are probably blocking the ground scanners.”

FN-2187 ducked out of the base tent and looked around, but of course none of the troopers standing by for their own training missions would be any help here.

“Thanks,” he told 1923, and she gave him a friendly nod and a wave. He tightened the strap on his ground pack and began the awkward climb back down toward the ravine where he’d left his fire-troop an hour ago.

He switched on his comm and signaled the base commander. _“_ FN-2187, on my way to reconvene with the rest of fire-team Alpha-2.”

Commander K-31’s reply was prompt. _“FN-2187, confirmed. Anything to report?”_

He looked as far down the path as his helmet’s sensors would reach, but he didn’t see any signs of life. “Nothing yet, Commander. What was their last known location?”

Even before he finished his request, the data from command were streaming into his visor. He could see FN-2003 and FN-2000’s blips on the holomap about halfway down the side of the ravine. FN-2199’s was sixteen meters closer.

_“What’s your assessment?”_

“Best guess is they’ve been held up by the vegetation, sir, but considering the lapse in communication, I’m going to proceed with caution.”

The training scenario wasn’t any different than it would have been in a simulation, FN-2187 told himself — but that wasn’t actually true, was it? On planet, there were any number of variables that would never have been programmed into a simulator. The plants alone represented thousands more organisms than he’d ever encountered before. He had a sudden irrational urge to take off his helmet and smell the air.

Commander K-31 sounded more bored than annoyed. _“Just go get them, okay?”_

“It hasn’t even been thirty seconds,” he protested.

 _“I don’t actually care about your arbitrary time limits,_ FN-2187. _It’s past time for thirdmeal already. Or should we cancel the scenario and send in a squadron to haul them out for you?”_

“No,” he said quickly. Drawing attention of any kind from command was bad enough, but losing points for failing at their training mission would be way worse. FN-2187 would never choose to sabotage his team that way. “Heading in.”

_“Report back when you make contact.”_

He switched off his communication and focused his attention on the sensors in front of him, pushing through the vegetation and stepping carefully in the mucky terrain. It was a strange sensation, the mud around his boots, almost like he was being sucked into the ground itself. The whole planet was nothing short of creepy. The animal sounds alone from the canopy were enough to give him nightmares.

“Stupid screechy things,” he muttered. The first time he’d heard them, he’d told his fire-team how they made him feel. FN-2003 had laughed and told him _they’re just birds,_ but they sure didn’t sound like any birds _he’d_ ever heard on the holovids. He flinched as a particularly piercing sound overwhelmed his helmet’s audio sensors, and paused for a moment to calm down.

“Okay, you can do this,” he told himself. “Never mind all four of us would never _actually_ be separated like this without our comm. Never mind that the —“

He ducked and rolled as the raptor, its wingspan wider than that of a TIE-fighter, swooped in out of nowhere. Useless stats from his visor included the fact that its talons had come within fifteen centimeters of his head.

FN-2187’s armor was oozing with mud when he came out of the roll, and he clutched at a hanging vine to maintain his balance, breathing hard from more than exertion. He scanned the treetops as he unholstered his blaster, but there was no further sign of the enormous creature.

“Nines?” he shouted, abandoning any hope of maintaining stealth. “Oh-Three? Zeroes? Where _are_ you?”

There was a scuffling sound on the path ahead, and then another one of those deafening shrieks from the creature (he would _not_ call it a bird). FN-2187 took off through the trees, ignoring the vines that smacked into his limbs as he ran.

He encountered the creature before he saw any of the other three. It was perched in the center of the clearing, its wings outstretched, glaring with what looked like menace in its eyes. Its beak was longer than his forearm. FN-2187 eyed it nervously as he approached.

“Nice birdie,” he said, holding out a pacifying hand — and fired. The creature’s body knocked aside an entire young sapling as it fell.

Nines was lying prone next to a structure of stones and sticks. When FN-2187 bent to check his vitals, he stirred, groaning.

“That thing’s wing packs a punch. I think it was defending its nest.”

“Zeroes and Oh-Three,” FN-2187 said urgently.

Nines struggled to sit up, shaking his head. “The bird knocked them off the cliff.”

FN-2187 scrambled past the creature’s corpse to the precipice, searching wildly for a sign of either of his fire-team mates. He caught sight of a patch of white several meters down, but there was too much rock in the way to determine further details.

“I’m going down after him.” He pulled a retractor cable out of his ground pack and fixed it around a sturdy tree, then hooked the other end to his belt. “The cargo package isn’t supposed to be too far along the bottom of the ravine. Wait here until I know his status, and then I’ll see if I can get it up to you.”

Nines nodded. There was no question in either of their minds of abandoning their mission, no matter what had happened to Zeroes and Oh-Three.

Slowly he eased himself down the side of the cliff until he was close enough to his teammate to touch him. It was Zeroes, caught in a tight place in the ravine. His helmet had come loose, dangling by its safety strap, and there was a deep gash on his cheek. He didn’t appear to be conscious, but according to the sensors in FN-2187’s visor, he was alive.

The emergency medisensor in his ground pack told him that Zeroes had a concussion and a broken collarbone. Rather than try to revive him, FN-2187 wedged himself into the tightest part of the ravine between his back and his legs before unclipping himself from the retractor cable.

“Zeroes is hurt, but I’m sending him up on the cable,” he called. “Then I’m going down after the cargo package. If you can get him back to base, do that.”

He couldn’t hear the details of Nines’ reply, but it sounded affirmative. That was enough for FN-2187 to proceed. Nines wasn’t much of a self-starter, but FN-2187 knew he’d go along with the plan, even if it proved difficult.

FN-2187 glanced down at the ravine, still far below. The retractor cable would be strong enough to carry both him and Oh-Three’s body along with the cargo package, if that turned out to be necessary, but getting back _up_ to the cable might be the hardest part. He tried not to think too hard about it as he maneuvered himself the remaining fifteen meters or so to the ground.

It didn’t take him long to find Oh-Three, stretched out on the rocky floor of the ravine. He was, miraculously, still conscious.

“That was quite a slip,” FN-2187 said, trying for levity. The medisensor beeped when he ran it close to Oh-Three’s left ankle.

“It’s already too swollen for me to get my boot off,” Oh-Three said, sounding weak and apologetic. “I wasn’t sure anyone was coming after me.”

“Are you kidding? You’re one of us.” But he hesitated. There was no way he was going to get a message to Nines from this range. FN-2187 thought he might be able to haul him back to the drop site of the cable, but on that ankle, Oh-Three definitely wasn’t going to be able to climb to meet it. “Can you walk on it?”

“Not without passing out, no.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that.” He scanned the area around them for life forms, but found none of consequence. “It’s getting dark. Let me make a sweep within a half hour’s range for shelter, and I’ll report back.”

Oh-Three nodded again. His pulse and oxygen levels read stable on the visor readout, but something made FN-2187 reach out and disconnect Oh-Three’s helmet. His hazel eyes darted across the verdant landscape, and his skin, usually pale, was grey and clammy.

FN-2187 tugged off his own helmet, then one glove. He reached out and ran his fingers over Oh-Three’s sweaty neck. Oh-Three’s eyes fluttered shut as he shivered.

“Hey,” FN-2187 said softly. He smiled encouragement, and after a moment, Oh-Three smiled back. “You’re not gonna slip any more while I’m gone, are you?”

Oh-Three let out an hysterical laugh. “There isn’t much further for me to go, is there?”

 _Depends on which way you mean,_ FN-2187 thought, but he just shrugged. He squeezed the tense muscles of Oh-Three’s neck and glanced up at the rock and vegetation above them. “We’ll get you out of here, one way or the other.”

Oh-Three blanched. “I can’t. I won’t. Not if it penalizes the team. You lose more points —”

“ _We_ lose more points,” FN-2187 said.

Oh-Three paused, then nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth tipping up. “ _We_ lose more points if we call for backup than if — if you lose me.”

“Well, then.” FN-2187 took a deep breath. “We won’t do either one.”


	2. Chapter 2

It took FN-2187 a little more than a half hour to find them an accessible shelter: a low, reasonably dry cavern carpeted by rock and moss. This suited them especially well considering it had started to rain. Prior stats told FN-2187 it rained most evenings on this particular location of the Class-1 planet. Luckily for them, the temperature didn’t fluctuate all that much, which meant they would be able to do without their body armor at night. FN-2187 had never enjoyed sleeping in his armor.

Oh-Three managed to make his way along the floor of the ravine to the cavern without passing out, though he did have to pause several times to lean on FN-2187 for support. FN-2187 knew this was a better decision than expecting Oh-Three to rely on the meds in his ground kit, but he offered them anyway.

Oh-Three shook his head. “They’re going to knock me out.”

FN-2187 lowered him onto the cavern floor. Oh-Three mopped his brow on the arm of his bodysuit and closed his eyes.

“Hurts?” FN-2187 asked with sympathy. Oh-Three nodded, his eyes still closed. FN-2187 watched his throat convulse as he swallowed. “There are four emergency bags of water in the ground pack, but I think the water in the stream out there might be potable if I put it through the filter.”

“Better,” Oh-Three said. “If you don’t mind getting wet on the way.”

FN-2187 didn’t mind, but he wasn’t sure how to explain why he didn’t. He knew historically many humanoids spent a great deal of their time immersed in water, but it had never been something he or any of his fire-teammates had had an opportunity to do. It still seemed like a strange practice, but not an unpleasant one.

“It’ll be dark soon,” he said. “I’ll take the filter and a storage bag and see what I can find. You want my blaster? It doesn’t have much of a charge left.”

Oh-Three unclipped his own and held it up. “Got a full charge.”

FN-2187 stripped off his armor before leaving — it didn’t care much for getting soaked — but left his bodysuit and boots on. Within minutes, water had collected in his cuffs and dripped down the neck of his shirt. He could have worn his helmet, but the opportunity to be without it, to breathe planetary air without Captain Phasma around to tell him to _put it back on,_ was too precious to be ignored. He did check one final time for life forms before switching on his medisensor. It wouldn’t detect water from far off, the way his visor would, but it clearly wasn’t going to be a difficult search.

He stared up at the sky, shaking his head as the droplets landed on his forehead. _As a last resort, I could just stand out here and hold the storage bag open for a few hours._

He didn’t have to do anything of the sort. As a matter of fact, he bypassed several still ponds in favor of a running stream within a ten standard minute walk of the cavern. The rocky terrain channeled the stream from higher ground, but it drained quickly into the soil instead of collecting at his feet. He could hear the same creepy raptor-noises in the distance, and shuddered.

“That thing that knocked you off the cliff,” he said to Oh-Three as he lugged the full storage bag into the cavern. He hadn’t moved from where he’d sat down, but the color of his skin looked healthier.

Oh-Three nodded. “The bird.”

“That was _not_ a bird.” FN-2187 held up his hands about an armspan apart. “Birds are _this_ size.”

“Apparently not. It took one look at us coming over the ridge and went right for us. I can’t imagine Captain Phasma sent us to this world without knowing full well that these creatures were here.”

FN-2187 attached the water filtration unit to the spout of the storage bag, then settled onto the ground beside Oh-Three, toweling off his head with a grim smile. “No, that was definitely deliberate. I knew I should have asked more questions about the size and the shape of the cargo package. How much do you want to bet it looks exactly like one of that creature’s eggs?”

Oh-Three groaned. “That would be Command’s dirtiest trick yet.”

“No, it makes sense. They’ve probably sent dozens of missions into this ravine. We’ll probably get docked points for killing that thing.”

“At least you won’t have to deal with it on the way out.” Oh-Three’s face sobered as he accepted the filtered bottle of water from FN-2187. “You think we can make it back up?”

“It seems likely. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can find an easier way out of here. The ravine is steep, but there are lots of routes in for water, so it makes sense we can climb out. If I can climb back up to the ridge, I can extend the length of my retraction cable with Nines’ and haul you out that way. We might have to wait a few days until your ankle is healed enough, though. Speaking of that…” He gestured at the swollen limb. “It doesn’t look so good?”

“Looks worse than it feels,” Oh-Three said bravely. FN-2187 couldn’t help but smile.

“Hell of a slip. Well, I think you should take the pain meds anyway. Better for you to sleep and heal than to remain alert tonight. I can set up a sensor by the mouth of the cavern.”

Oh-Three didn’t protest any further, which said something about his state of discomfort. He let FN-2187 inject the meds into his calf, then took another drink of water before stretching out on the moss. He was asleep within minutes.

“Slip,” said FN-2187 to himself, still smiling. “Yeah. I like that.”

* * *

While it was inconvenient to be out of contact with their fire-troop, they weren’t in any immediate danger. They had enough emergency rations in their ground pack to keep them fed for several days. Water seemed to be uncommonly plentiful on this world. FN-2187 was even able to bathe in the small pond. He carefully scanned it for life before entering, but aside from handfuls of tiny fish nibbling his legs when he stood still in the rocky pool, he was left alone. Other than Oh-Three’s injury, the whole situation was remarkably peaceful.

Oh-Three (FN-2187 had started calling him Slip, and he hadn’t yet objected) spent most of the first day sleeping. FN-2187 helped him out of the cavern to deal with nature’s call, rather than depend on the filtration systems of his body armor. The weather was mild enough and the cavern quiet enough that FN-2187 didn’t insist on either of them wearing it.

FN-2187 made brief trips out to map the terrain, but he tried not to be away from the cavern for too long. Without supplemental communication boosts, their helmets were not set up to maintain any kind of contact among the four of them. At least he could be sure Slip stayed safe and his health continued to improve. FN-2187 also located the cargo package, which was indeed egg-shaped, and brought it back to the cavern to await their eventual return. 

On day two, he used pebbles and chunks of moss to create a map of the ravine and the surrounding paths, doing his best to approximate elevation with the materials at his disposal.FN-2187 helped Slip take a brief walk down to the pond, then the two of them discussed best exit scenarios over secondmeal.

It was Slip who brought up the supplements.

“They’re in our rations,” he said, digging texturized vegetable protein out of his teeth with a stimpick. “Each of us has a personalized dose, right? Depending on what kind of duty we’re fulfilling, and our own body chemistry?”

“Yeah.” FN-2187 nodded, watching him. “So?”

“So we haven’t had our doses for over thirty hours now.” Slip raised an eyebrow. “Noticed any effects?”

FN-2187 hadn’t really thought about it, but over the rest of the evening, he began to pay closer attention. He had the contents of his own dose, of course, recorded in his health history. There was nothing surprising about anything on the list, and his and Slip’s doses were similar, if not precisely identical. They looked their lists over together.

“Testosterone and syntheroids would improve our competitive edge,” FN-2187 guessed. “And this is a stimulant, to keep us focused? Depilatories.” He indicated Slip’s facial hair, already beginning to fill in. His own was slower to develop. “And mood stabilizers; more for me than you.”

Slip poked him, grinning. “No doubt.”

“Shut up,” he said, poking him back. “But the rest of the stuff on this list… I have no idea what it’s for.”

Judging by the noises Slip made in the middle of the night, at least some of them were for restful sleep. FN-2187 was accustomed to sleeping through the night without waking, but during training, most days he was exhausted by the time he went to bed.

By day three, both of them were restless, especially Slip. It was hard for FN-2187 to sit around and watch him be cooped up in the cavern all day.

“I’m going for a run,” FN-2187 told him finally, after yet another meal of emergency rations. “I’ll bring back more water.”

The terrain was absolutely not ideal for running, but it was the kind of mind-numbing repetitive exercise he needed at the moment. It was startling to discover how _alive_ he felt out here, although he guessed that was more about the stimulation of the environment and less about the supplements in his system. He’d already grown accustomed to navigating without the additional feedback from his helmet’s computers, but his whole body felt different when he ran without body armor. It wasn’t that the armor was confining, exactly, or that it held him back. It just made the world _different._ He was coming to notice how much he appreciated experiencing the world without the armor on.

Looping back around after about three kilometers, he picked up another bagful of water, then stopped at the pond to wash off the sweat. Rather than trying to get dressed over wet skin, he carried his clothes back with him to the cavern.

Returning without boots on apparently caused him to move quietly enough to conceal his approach. When he arrived at the mouth of the cavern, he could see Slip propped against the wall where he’d been sleeping the past two nights. He’d stripped off his bodysuit and undergarments and was sitting naked, his swollen ankle propped up on the cargo container.

His head was tipped back against the wall of the cavern, his eyes closed. FN-2187 drew to a halt and watched as Slip’s hands slid over the muscles of his thighs, down to his knees and back up again, over and over. They kept returning to the space between his legs, running up and down the length of his erection.

That wasn’t something that was entirely uncommon, to see another trooper sport an erection like that. FN-2187 saw other troopers naked on a regular basis, men and women, and every now and then one of the male troopers would develop one, but it would always subside on its own. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one, himself, but standing there watching Slip touch his, he felt a tingling and tugging in his own gut, and all along the length of his body, between his legs, up to his throat. He swallowed.

Slip didn’t notice him. His hands continued their journey across the terrain of his body, mapping its crevices with his fingers. FN-2187 had a sudden urge to put his own hands on Slip’s body and do the same. He was absolutely certain he’d never had a desire to do that before, but he definitely was having one now. He placed his hand on his own erection, which had arisen more suddenly than he’d realized was possible, and squeezed.

The soft noise that came out of his mouth was apparently not enough to break Slip from his own reverie. FN-2187 watched Slip’s hands grip himself, returning again and again to the center to stroke and touch and rub with the tips of his fingers.

When he did open his eyes at last, and focused on FN-2187 standing two meters away, he looked surprised, but not alarmed. He was also clearly frustrated.

“What’s going on?” Slip asked, his voice dark and thick with feelings FN-2187 had never heard him express before. “What’s happening to me?”

“Us,” FN-2187 said. “Whatever’s happening to you is happening to me, too.”

Slip nodded. His pupils dilated as he gazed at FN-2187’s erection.

“I used to get this sometimes when I was a kid,” he said. “At night, mostly, or in the morning.”

FN-2187 had vague memories of that happening to himself, too, but they were long enough ago that he couldn’t quite recall details. “Did you do something about it?”

“Just this. The touching seems to help calm the restlessness, but it doesn’t seem to be going away like it was yesterday.”

“This was happening yesterday?” Now FN-2187 was even more worried. He gave up on being concerned about what Slip might think and came over to kneel beside him, checking his vitals with his fingers. He wasn’t completely useless without technology.

Slip turned immediately into his touch, reaching for FN-2187’s arms. Holding him seemed like the right thing to do, but neither of them were prepared for the reaction of their bodies at the sensation of skin brushing skin. Slip gasped, and FN-2187 clutched him tighter, feeling them both quiver all over.

“Oh,” he said, “this is —“ He stared up at FN-2187 leaning over him. When he reached up and stroked a hand over FN-2187’s chest, they both let out a shaky breath. FN-2187 could feel his own erection trapped against Slip’s thigh, and Slip’s own, bobbing beneath his hand. He reached out with his fingers and touched it, watching Slip’s face for any negative reaction, but Slip just looked overwhelmed.

“I’m not sure if it’s better to leave it alone,” FN-2187 said, his voice strained, “but the — the touching feels — good. Very good, to me.”

“Yeah?” Slip pushed his hips forward, rubbing into FN-2187’s palm, and nodded. “I’m having trouble focusing on anything else.”

That was the truth. The sensations produced by the contact of their skin, everywhere, but especially on his fingers and other sensitive areas, was driving FN-2187 a little crazy.

 _On duty this would have been solved with work,_ he thought hazily, _or possibly medication. Slip would have been given sedatives until he was healed. We never would have had this much time alone together to discover… this._

 _This,_ as he was learning, was turning out to be better than just about anything he’d ever experienced. He knelt in closer, straddling Slip’s thigh, and applied a little pressure with his body. “Tell me if I’m hurting your ankle?”

“Not hurting,” Slip gasped. “Feels better… better. You feel so good.”

The buzz in his body was eclipsed, momentarily, by the burst of gladness in his chest. For a moment, he wondered if they’d been stricken with some illness. There was no way he could be feeling this good naturally.

 _Better_ was true, however, and with each rock of his body against Slip’s thigh, the _better_ increased, so much that he didn’t want to stop. He focused on Slip’s choppy breathing against his neck, and his own hands, running over Slip’s skin, and chased the tension as it continued to intensify.

When his fingers found Slip’s erection again and discovered he was starting to leak fluid from the tip, he paused and gave Slip an anxious glance. “Does this happen to you other times, too? It’s not sickness, is it?”

“Just yesterday,” Slip said, his voice tight. “I think it must be related to the lack of supplements. That’s — what made me ask.” Slip ran his fingers over the loose skin at the tip, his breath catching. “Sensation is increased. I can smell you.”

Startled, FN-2187 took a deep breath in through his nose. “I just bathed.”

“It’s not a bad smell,” Slip promised him. He leaned in closer, putting his nose against FN-2187’s skin, and FN-2187 immediately had to contend with yet another dizzying rush of emotions. He wondered if he might pass out from them at some point.

When he thrust a little harder against Slip’s leg, he noticed the slippery fluid seeping from his own erection, trailing moisture across Slip’s abdomen. Slip’s eyes were almost closed now, his fingers making a more focused rubbing motion along the entire length of himself. Each noise he made, every groan and gasp, inspired more intense sensations.

“I need,” he whispered into FN-2187’s ear, and suddenly gripped himself more firmly, stroking harder and with purpose. “I need — _oh — “_

It was somewhat distressing to witness Slip crying out and emitting pulse after pulse of fluid, covering the back of his hand and the mossy floor of the cavern, but from what FN-2187 could determine, he wasn’t in any distress. Slip leaned into the shelter of FN-2187’s arm and rested there for a long moment as his body gradually relaxed.

FN-2187, who was still buzzing with energy and tension of his own, paused in grinding against Slip’s leg long enough to let him rest. Briefly, he inspected Slip’s ankle, but it seemed to be all right.

“That was, um.” He wasn’t sure what to say. “Was that what you needed?”

Slip chuckled. “I think it must have been.” He closed his eyes and exhaled, going very still. For a moment, FN-2187 wondered if Slip had fallen asleep. Then his hand stirred, tucking in between his leg and FN-2187’s, making a loose channel of his fingers.

“Like this?” he asked, sounding suddenly uncertain.

Then FN-2187 thrust into it, and Slip squeezed a little tighter, and the sensation started all over again, more intense than before.

“Like that,” FN-2187 urged, “yeah, that — tighter —“

The avid way Slip was watching him made it even better. His gaze leapt from FN-2187’s mouth, back to his hand, to the movement of his hips.

“You look so _good,”_ Slip said, almost bewildered, and laughed, shaking his head as he leaned in for a better grip. “I don’t get it, but I can’t stop _looking_ at you.”

“I don’t get _any_ of this,” FN-2187 panted. “Why didn’t we know about this before?”

The question consumed him long after the sensation peaked and concluded in much the same way Slip’s had. They peeled apart from one another, laughing a little. FN-2187 managed to help Slip to his feet and down the ravine to the pond to wash off. They swam in silence for a while.

“I wonder,” Slip mused, paddling carefully to avoid the purple bank of crystal along the south shore. “I was thinking about the holovid series we watched with Nines.”

“ _Dark Romance,”_ FN-2187 said. He’d watched the classic Ch’been series with only mild interest, but many of the rest of their barracks had enjoyed it, or at least the parts the Imperial censors had deemed appropriate. “What about it?”

“The relationship between the speeder pilot and what’s-her-name. Baby Ludi.”

“Baby Ludi’s cute boyfriend?” It had always seemed like a title to FN-2187, _cute-boyfriend,_ the kind of thing one could aspire to if you had enough status and freedom and possibly money. Having none of those things himself made the question of whether or not he could have a cute boyfriend, or be a cute boyfriend, irrelevant.

Slip shook the water out of his hair, which was already longer than regulation. “The parts they cut out. I wonder if that’s what they were doing? That — touching — that we were doing.”

“Maybe? Do you suppose the rest of the Empire does those things all the time?”

Slip laughed. “Maybe they do.”

FN-2187 had always thought Slip’s laugh was a nice sound, one that made him feel warm inside. Then he thought about the way Slip had sounded at the climax of their touching, the most exciting part, and felt a renewal of sensation. He had an impulse to reach out, to touch him, and wondered if he should attempt to control it. Maybe Slip wouldn’t want to do that again, or at least not so soon.

“You know,” said Slip. He glanced up at FN-2187. “Baby Ludi kisses her cute boyfriend. On the holovid.”

FN-2187 suddenly appreciated the absence of their helmets even more than before, because not only could he see Slip’s hopeful expression when he said those words, but he could move right through the water and put his hand on Slip’s cheek, and watch his eyes light up.

“I never really saw the point of kissing before,” admitted FN-2187.

“Yeah, me neither. It always seemed kind of weird.” Slip grinned, showing the gap between his teeth. FN-2187 remembered with sudden clarity when Slip was eleven and he’d had straighteners put on. He’d hated those straighteners. After he’d had them removed, by the time he reached his fifteenth birthday, the gap had reappeared. That gap was part of Slip that didn’t show behind his helmet. It didn’t make him more or less brave, or a more or less competent soldier. There was no purpose it served. In the Imperial scheme of things, it wasn’t important.

Except now, FN-2187 wasn’t sure if there _wasn’t_ a part of Slip that wasn’t important. He let his eyes land on every part of his face, memorizing the whole thing.

“You, uh… still think it’s weird?” he asked softly. “The kissing?”

Slip’s smile widened. “I think if you’d asked me that yesterday, I might have said yes. But who can argue with new empirical data?”

The initial connection of their mouths was somewhat awkward. All FN-2187 had to go by was brief holovid images from _Dark Romance._ He tried desperately to remember how the kisses had gone, how long they’d lasted, and what kind of other things he should be doing while he was kissing.

Then he felt Slip’s tongue parting his lips, and the slide of his wet hand around the back of FN-2187’s neck, pulling him closer, and he forgot about being self-conscious. He also answered his earlier question about whether Slip might care to do all the stuff they’d done earlier again, because when their naked bodies connected beneath the water, Slip found a convenient spot on FN-2187’s hip to grind against. Feeling Slip moan right into his mouth at the same time just made it all that much sweeter.

“Your ankle,” he asked at one point, but Slip just shook his head and hung on around FN-2187’s neck with both hands.

“Buoyancy,” he whispered into FN-2187’s ear, and placed his lips on the edge of his earlobe.

FN-2187 quickly added _whispering_ and _ear-kissing_ to the list of things that aroused his interest — a list that had Slip’s name right at the top. Before they made it back to the cavern, he’d also added _neck-biting, loud pleading_ and _butt-grabbing._ And then, once FN-2187 had him situated on the mossy floor again, it was Slip who suggested one he hadn’t even considered.

“Let me try my mouth,” he said.

FN-2187 wasn’t absolutely certain he understood what he meant until Slip maneuvered himself between FN-2187’s legs and made him cry out with the pressure of his lips and tongue. It took less than two minutes to reach a mind-blowing conclusion.

“That,” he panted, “definitely reduced the length of time between arousal and climax.”

“But did it feel better?” Slip wanted to know, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

With utmost care for his ankle, FN-2187 flipped Slip onto his back, then grinned down at him. “You’ll have to let me know when I’m done.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with the "Baby Ludi" story, which was really an EU reference to an historical custody case, but there really was a [holovid titled Dark Romance](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Dark_Romance) by Ch'been. Wookieepedia comes through yet again.

Sleep and food both became important commodities once it was clear to both of them that they would not be able to continue the cycle of arousal and climax indefinitely. It was also amazing what kind of renewal they were able to achieve with a liberal amount of skin contact.

“You’re going to tell me when you get sick of this, right?” he asked Slip, pulling him closer into his chest with an arm around his waist.

“I don’t think I could,” Slip said. FN-2187 buried his smile into Slip’s neck, making him snort with ticklish laughter.

“Well, if you do.”

“I would tell you.” Slip turned his head to look at FN-2187 over his shoulder, his smile fading. “We’re going to have to go back eventually, you know.”

“I know.”

Slip nodded, more to himself than anything. Even after a solid diet of him over the past twenty-four hours, the touch of Slip’s fingers along the skin of FN-2187’s forearm felt miraculous. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Slip’s wrist, and felt his breath catch.

“Baby,” Slip murmured.

It had come from “Baby Ludi” in the holovid series, the one with the cute boyfriend. But it wasn’t really a joke nickname, not like “Slip.” It felt more like a title, like _cute-boyfriend_ would have been if Slip would ever dare introduce him that way. _This is FN-2187,_ _my baby._ He let the feelings simmer and gathered Slip as close as he could hold him.

“I don’t know if I can do it," said Slip. "Pretend things are the same.”

“We can,” said FN-2187, as confidently as he dared. “I’ll figure out a way. Don’t worry.”

Slip chuckled, shaking his head. “You really think so?”

He wasn't going to lie to Slip -- and, still, he nodded. “I think I have to.”

“I think I believe you,” he said, and kissed him again.

* * *

They gave themselves two more days, both for Slip's recovery and for immersion in one another. FN-2187 made several circuits of the ravine, Slip limping along behind him on his ankle, before FN-2187 gave the okay for them to attempt climbing with the cargo package.

It was strange to see the world with their helmets on again, but stranger still to be separated from touching. To get from the bottom of the ravine to the hook on the dangling retraction cable, FN-2187 used his back and feet to wedge themselves between the walls of the ravine while lifting Slip in his arms, a few inches at a time. It was slow going. His neck was within kissing distance the entire way, but the layers of titanium and shielding between them kept them apart.

All too soon, they were standing on the ledge, where the great winged creature’s corpse was already beginning to decay.

“You’re going to have to make the contact,” Slip told him. He sounded bitter.

“Just —“ FN-2187 reached up and unlatched his helmet. Slip followed suit. They stood on the ground, facing one another, almost close enough to touch. He blew out a breath. “Look, I know it’s going to be hard.”

“It’s already hard,” Slip said, and he smiled sadly. “Not a joke.”

FN-2187 nodded. “Maybe… it’d be better if I requested a transfer to another team.”

“No,” Slip said immediately. “Don’t. I can deal with not touching you, not — having you. I mean, our supplements will kick in pretty quickly, right? And we’ll be back to the way things were. We won’t even care that we can't...” He gave FN-2187 a pleading look. “You can’t think about going away, Baby. I mean, you’re part of me.”

FN-2187 laughed shakily, sniffing back the sudden tears. “I guess once we're on the supplements you won’t be able to make me cry like that.”

“Guess not.” Slip made that hopeful smile that left FN-2187 unable to do anything but smile back. “You’ll still call me Slip?”

“I think I could do that,” FN-2187 said. “We’ve got a good excuse for that one. But you can’t really call me _Baby._ Not unless we want a hell of a lot of questions.”

Slip leaned over, past the barrier of their armor, and kissed him, slowly. His lips were still so soft.

“FN-2187,” he whispered. His number, spoken in that tone, made him shiver. FN-2187 leaned back and looked Slip in the eye.

“I’ll care,” he said. “No matter what our bodies do or don’t remember. I’ll care. This was…” He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t have the words.”

“It’s not the words I’ll remember anyway,” said Slip.

It took them less than three minutes to make contact once they were heading up the path toward camp. _“I’ll tell your fire-team you’re back,”_ said the trooper on duty. He sounded more surprised than anything to hear from them. _“You took a long time to retrieve that cargo package. Seriously, there was a betting pool. Odds said you were goners.”_

FN-2187 swallowed the hysterical laugh that threatened to overwhelm him, and just nodded. “The cargo’s safe. FN-2003’s ankle sustained some damage, but otherwise we’re… fine.”

_“I’ll let the Captain know you’re coming.”_

FN-2187 stayed close to Slip, still carrying the package strapped to his back. He wasn’t about to let it out of his sight until Captain Phasma guaranteed they’d be getting full credit for retrieving it intact.

Before they even made it to ground command, Nines came skidding around the corner. Even without his visor’s identification, FN-2187 could usually recognize Nines in his armor by his characteristic sauntering slow gait, but at the moment he was running full tilt. Zeroes wasn’t far behind.

“By the First Order,” Nines breathed. Then he whooped, leaping forward to hug FN-2187, then Slip. “You’re alive!”

“Thanks to him,” said Slip, nodding at FN-2187. He hugged Zeroes next. “Heard you almost landed in the ravine next to me, without your helmet.”

“You should see the cut on my cheek,” Zeroes said. FN-2187 could hear the relief in his voice. “I thought one of those bird-things got you two.”

“The ravine kept us pretty safe from attack. There was shelter and plenty of fresh water, though I don’t care if I never see another emergency ration again.” FN-2187 sighed, feeling the tension already beginning in his body, and looked ahead down the corridor to command central.

“Well, we missed you,” said Nines. “All this time on an uncharted planet? You’re going to have to fill us in on the details.”

“FN-2000, 2003, 2187, 2199,” called Commander K-31’s voice. He ducked out from behind the curtain and beckoned curtly. “Captain Phasma is ready for you.”

The captain stood at the front of the makeshift command tent, like it was a throne room, her armor gleaming. She was alone, and it suited her. Not for the first time, FN-2187 wondered what she looked like without her helmet on. He had no doubt that her expression was as sour as her voice. They all drew to attention.

“Reporting as ordered, Captain,” FN-2187 said.

“FN-2187.” She addressed him crisply in the way she had, without appearing to look at him. He automatically straightened his back at the sound of his number. “Your team has returned from their training mission. You failed to meet the time requirements, which has a negative impact on your total score. In addition, several of you sustained damage to your equipment.”

None of them responded, since she had not asked anyone a direct question. They knew protocol as well as any of the troops. _Equipment_ could just as easily be their actual bodies as it could be armor or weapons, since all of it belonged to the First Order, but FN-2187 had to wonder what had actually been damaged.

“FN-2003, preliminary medscan indicates you have a severe sprain to the left ankle. You were unable to transport yourself back to base?”

“That is correct, Captain,” Slip said. His voice cracked a little, but Phasma did not react. “FN-2187 carried me and the cargo pod as high as he could. Then he used the retracting cable to haul us both out of the ravine, as soon as my ankle was strong enough.”

It was more of a speech than Phasma had probably wanted, but Slip finally seemed to sense this and stopped talking.

“FN-2187,” she said, not turning her head, “you took some liberties with protocol in the use of recovery equipment. You returned to the field with an inadequately charged weapon, and you fired on an unclassified life form without sufficient preparation.”

“Yes, Captain,” said FN-2187. All of it was true. He suspected none of it was all that bad, but the way she was listing each point, like the totality of them spoke to some dangerous flaw in his character… it was hard not to be certain she was right. He'd definitely gone off-script. 

“Present the cargo pod.”

He unstrapped it from his back and set it on the ground. Phasma released some hidden catch and opened the pod, revealing a device no larger than the palm of her hand. She handed it to him.

“This recording device collected data from the planet as well as from you and your troop during the mission. It will provide valuable information to the First Order about your capacity to deal with unplanned challenges. You will see that it gets appropriately filed with the data accumulated by your visor in your report.”

“Yes, Captain.” He took the device from her, feeling his insides squirming with more than just hunger, and fought an urge to look at Slip.

 _What did it record?_ he thought wildly. _How much detail? Our heart rates? The state of our untreated blood? Our bodies’ responses? What if it had recorded audio as well?_

She was still standing there. FN-2187 waited another ghastly several seconds, then cleared his throat.

“Was… there anything else you required of us, Captain?”

“FN-2187, you retrieved your three other team-mates under less than optimal conditions.” It was said in that same mildly disdainful tone. “None were damaged permanently. You achieved your objective. You performed adequately.”

“Thank you, Captain,” he said. That was as good as it got with Phasma.

“FN-2000, 2199, you will report to Commander K-31 for teardown duties before loading the transport and returning to base.” She turned and indicated Slip. “FN-2003 and 2187, you will first report to medical. FN-3141 is waiting to assess your health and repair your injury.”

“Going home,” said Nines as the four of them exited the briefing, sounding pleased. “It’s about time. I guess we were the last trainees. With any luck, we’ll see you guys before thirdmeal.”

They watched Nines and Zeroes head off. Slip let out an unhappy breath.

“A recording?”

“Yeah,” FN-2187 said, his voice low. “This could be… really bad.” He took Slip’s arm and helped him limp down the corridor. “Nothing we can do about it now. Come on, let’s get this taken care of and go home.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I like to know what my characters look like, I have cast actors to play FN-2817/Finn ([John Boyega](http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/3/38/FinnHS-Fathead.png))’s fire-troop. We know from the prequel novella [Before the Awakening](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Before_the_Awakening) that FN-2003/Slip had a pale complexion and hazel eyes ([Cole Hauser](http://waytofamous.com/images/cole-hauser-08.jpg)), FN-2000/Zeroes had dark brown skin ([David Oyelowo](http://www.gannett-cdn.com/-mm-/724293f981aa8428734c5843623e9224302f892d/c=76-0-2321-2993&r=537&c=0-0-534-712/local/-/media/2014/12/24/USATODAY/USATODAY/635550145833680337-XXX-Oyelowo-portrait-0551.JPG)) and FN-2199/Nines had red hair and blue eyes ([Zack Ward](http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/anneofgreengables/images/4/42/Zackward.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130422184055)). You can ignore my choices if you disagree with them.
> 
> FN-3141/Pi is an original character, and I described her with pale eyebrows (let’s say she looks something like [Clare Bowen](http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o120/rmcelhin/ac150f36037214a349447c2b9c17542e_m.jpg)). I’m not sure if I’ll ever write stories about her and Tonic and the rest of her fire-troop, but of course I’ve already made some up in my head!
> 
> -amy

 

Medical technician FN-3141, who had gone by the nickname “Pi” since long before they were trainees, was dressed only in her bodysuit when they got to the tiny temporary medical quarters. She helped Slip take off his own armor before giving him a hug. It wasn’t exactly common to be that physically familiar with troops outside your fire-team,  but Pi had always been more touchy-feely than most. FN-2187 found himself watching with anticipation as she disconnected Slip’s helmet and smiled at him.

_I wanted to see his face,_ he realized with dismay as he slowly took off his own armor and helmet. _Not for any good reason, just… because I miss it, already. How_ ** _am_** _I going to pull this off?_

“We missed you,” she said fondly. “Both of you. Have a seat there and I’ll take care of FN-2187 so he can be on his way.”

“Oh, I don’t mind waiting for him,” FN-2187 said. Slip nodded a quick agreement. She shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” She knelt down and took his ankle in gentle hands, looking it over. “So how’d this happen, Oh-Three?”

“Uh…” Slip glanced over at FN-2187 and shrugged, his cheeks a little pink. “I’m using the name _Slip_ now.”

That made her laugh out loud. “I think I can guess why!”

Together, FN-2187 and Slip told an abbreviated version of the story of their last several days. They managed to get through it without too many awkward silences, or at least Pi was too enthralled by the story to notice the ones that emerged. She was an excellent listener; she clapped her hands and exclaimed in all the right places. By the end of their retelling, the tension that had been weighing on FN-2187 following the debriefing with Captain Phasma had largely disappeared, and they were both smiling.

“Did you miss your troop?” she wanted to know. “You must have. I think if I were separated from Tonic for that long, I would be going a little nuts.”

FN-2187 couldn’t help but notice that Pi didn’t say she’d also miss the other two in her troop. He wondered if he would have noticed that comment at all before his mission to the planet.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve never been away from them for that long. It was… educational.”

Slip didn’t respond, but FN-2187 could see he was blushing again. He winced a little when Pi gave the support bandage around his foot an extra tug to tighten it.

“We’re all packing up to go back to base,” she said. “I don’t think you’ll be doing anything that looks like active duty for a few days, _Slip_. I’m going to give you this anti-grav boot to wear. It should let you get around without needing to lean on anything.” She buckled it on. “FN-2187, can you give him a hand walking? It might take him a few minutes to get used to it.”

Slip did fine walking around with the boot on his own, but FN-2187 didn’t object to the opportunity to move in close to him and support him around the waist for those minutes. Finally, Slip tried a little experimental bounce, only wobbling a bit.

“Excellent.” Pi crossed her arms, beaming at them. “You’ll come see me tomorrow when we get back to base. After firstmeal, okay? The sytheroids I gave you should have brought some of the swelling down by then, and we can look more carefully at your foot.”

It might have been the stricken look on Slip’s face when FN-2187 heard Pi say _syntheroids,_ or it might have been Pi herself that decided him. “Slip, can you head back to the barracks without me? I have a few things I need from Pi before we go home.”

“Sure, no problem.” Slip didn’t seem fazed by FN-2187’s request. He fastened on his armor with a few practiced moves, ending with his helmet, then waved farewell.

But when Pi turned expectantly to FN-2187, he had to pause and collect his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what to say and what _not_ to say. He picked up a plastic cannula from the shelf and began inspecting it, trying to gather his nerve.

“What can I do for you, FN-2187?” she asked.

His number sounded strangely awkward coming from her lips, she who called her own fire-teammates by familiar nicknames: _Tonic, Odds, Tutu_. He’d himself had never had a nickname before, even though most stormtroopers did, and he’d never asked his teammates for one. And yet, now, wondering if he’d ever hear the name _Baby_ again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be called FN-2187 anymore. He thought, if Pi said it again, he might very well start crying right there.

“This room.” He looked up into the corners, where the recording devices were usually mounted. “It’s private? Nobody’s listening?”

“As private as one gets in makeshift med quarters on an unnamed Type 1 world, yes.” She grinned. “What is it?”

“The — the supplements,” he managed to get out. He took a deep breath. “In our diet. There were some — strange effects, being without them for a week.”

Pi simply nodded. “What did you notice?”

“Increased sensation. Maybe a mild loss of focus.” He fought the embarrassment that threatened to overtake him. “Um… stimulation. In my — core.” He made a vague gesture to his groin.

“Yes.” She regarded him calmly, without apparent judgment. “Males experience this, in particular, when they’re off the chemical castration meds. Or perhaps it’s that females simply find it less distracting.”

“It wasn’t distracting,” he said. Her pale eyebrows went up, and he spoke quickly, trying to get the words out before he couldn’t say them anymore. “We don’t want to go back to the way it was. We just want it to be like this. Isn’t there anything you can do, for me and Slip?”

He was aware he sounded like he was begging, but he wasn’t sure he could convey the importance of it any other way. She just looked at him for a long moment.

“FN-2187,” she said slowly. Now her brows were knitted. She sighed. “It’d put you at risk. All of us, really. If we were ever found out —“

“I know. I hate that idea. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t — if it didn’t mean something.” He let his eyes do the pleading, and waited for her response. She sat for another few moments in silence.

“The effects can be… unpredictable. If you go off the chem-cas meds without modifying the others, the syntheroids can do things to your combat performance.” She shrugged. “But we won’t really know until we try it.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Try it? You mean you can do it?”

“I mean I can _try,”_ she stressed. “I can put it in your file that this was a medical necessity, this modification. I doubt anyone would question that. But I can’t promise it won’t negatively affect your performance in other ways. The commanders, the captain, they could notice.”

He dropped the plastic cannula on the floor of the tent and seized her, hugging her hard. She made a little squeak of surprise before relaxing and hugging him back.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she whispered back. She gave him an extra-tight squeeze, then let him go. Her eyes still looked troubled. “This could go very, very wrong.”

“I don’t see how it could be any worse than being knocked off a cliff by a giant bird,” he said.

Pi started to laugh. “Okay… I’ll grant you that. Just — come back and see me when Slip does. We can talk about it at home, after you’ve had a few days to adjust. In the meantime…” She went to the stack of storage along one wall and started rummaging, muttering to herself, then made a satisfied noise. Then she turned and handed him a flat package. “There. Take those.”

He examined the print on the packages of of unidentified fluid.

“Lubricant?” he asked uncertainly.

“Trust me,” she said, and rested a hand on his arm with a knowing look. “You’re going to want it.”

* * *

FN-2187 was so surprised that Pi had said yes that he hadn’t had time to think about what he should do next. He reconvened with his fire-troop and made a reasonable stab at conversation with Nines and Zeroes as they boarded the shuttle back to base, but he could tell they were aware that something was not quite normal between the four of them yet. They didn’t even tease Slip about his new nickname.

“I’m off duty until my foot heals,” said Slip, grimacing, “It’s going to be a dull couple weeks.”

“I bet it’s nothing like being on the ground, huh?” Nines nudged Slip. “Is it weird to be inside again after all that time in the wild?”

He shrugged, looking at his hands. “I’d say it’s too quiet, but… actually, the onboard engines sound a lot louder than the wind and the rain did.”

“Well, that mission was more than enough time for me,” said Zeroes, shuddering. “Didn’t feel _natural.”_

FN-2187 wasn’t sure he was in a position to say what did or didn’t feel natural anymore. Even the food made him wonder. What if Pi’s order in the system was too late and they’d already received their original doses of supplements? That chem-cas drug, would it start influencing them right away?

_What’s good for me is what’s good for the First Order,_ he told himself, and choked down the ration they’d given him for thirdmeal. It was one of the phrases they’d heard since childhood, during the twice-daily morale sessions that were part of their standard training. It wasn’t as though he didn’t believe it.

_And yet._ He gazed across the shuttle cabin at Slip, buckled into his seat, and caught him looking back. Slip gave him a brief smile, a shadow of the hopeful expression that was so clear in FN-2187’s memory, before averting his eyes. FN-2187 felt a hot pulse of anger, with doubt right on its heels.

_This isn’t helping any of us,_ he thought _. What if what’s good for me — good for_ ** _us_** _— isn’t what the First Order dictates?_

When they got back to base and began unloading cargo from the shuttle, FN-2187 kept an eye out for an opportunity. As soon as he and Nines were alone, he took it.

“I need to ask you a favor,” he said in an undertone.

Nines looked at him sharply. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain. Not right now. Just… tonight, you’re first on duty. When the watch checks in, can you say we’re present, me and Slip? We’ll leave our helmets here so the auto tally will count us, but I don’t want them coming inside to confirm and finding us short two.”

If he’d asked Zeros, there would have been an argument, but Nines wasn’t like that. His ginger brows drew down and he chewed on his lip.

“I can give you something,” FN-2187 added.

Nines huffed a denial. “Forget it. Yeah, of course I’ll cover for you. Just tell me… you’re not — I mean this isn’t…” He dropped to a whisper. “Illegal?”

“No, nothing like that. I just don’t think I’m ready to sleep in a room full of people yet. Not even you guys.”

It was close enough to the truth that he didn’t feel completely awful about lying to Nines, who shrugged.

“I guess Zeroes _is_ the worst snorer,” he said, and ventured a smile. FN-2187 smiled back, relaxing a fraction. “You think you might explain it to us eventually?”

“I’ll try,” said FN-2187. He wasn’t sure how much sense it would make. Like a Keshian trying to tell humans what ultraviolet looks like, there just wasn’t enough context for Nines or Zeroes to comprehend what he and Slip had discovered. But he wanted to. He wanted them to understand.

Slip had been right about the ambient noise of the engines being loud, but it was still comforting to be back at the base. They’d lived there for most of the years after their academy training. It was as close to what the stories on the holovids called _home_ as any other place he’d ever lived. Just as his fire-troop was as close to _family_ as he’d ever had _._

He swallowed. _And now, there’s Slip._ There was no question what Slip was to him.

FN-2187 waited until Zeroes was in the sonic and Nines was setting up for first shift on watch. Slip startled when he moved in close, glancing around nervously.

“What if someone sees?” Slip whispered. But he accepted FN-2187’s hands around his waist, cradling his back.

“I have something to tell you,” FN-2187 murmured. “Come with me after lights out. Nines will cover for us.”

Slip looked stunned, but FN-2187 could see a flicker of the wild hope return to his face. _He trusts me,_ FN-2187 thought, and felt his heart swell in his chest, large enough to encompass both of them. _I can’t fail him._

“Where?” Slip asked.

He took a deep breath. “That, I’m not sure about. But I have an idea.”

Lights out came and went. FN-2187 waited for a sufficient length of time in the silence, then stood, padding across the room in his bare feet with his bedroll tucked underneath his arm. Slip was already right behind him, no questions asked, moving silently. FN-2187 fought the urge to take his hand.

They walked past Nines, sitting in the chair by the door, reading on his datapad. He glanced up at them, nodded once, then went back to his reading. He didn’t say anything at all.

FN-2187 led Slip through the dim corridor in a path familiar only to him, past myriad unlabeled doors, until they reached an access panel. He keyed in a six-digit code and, when the panel slid open, ushered Slip in ahead of him, then followed him in.

The room was small, smelling of cleaning supplies. The shelves were stocked from floor to ceiling with boxes, labeled for use by the sanitation crew. FN-2187 knew the third shift crew didn’t use this supply closet. They wouldn’t be bothered here for the rest of the night.

There was enough light from the wall panel controls to allow him to see Slip’s expression. There was fear, but also relief, and something like awe. Slip moved into FN-2187’s arms and rested his fingers on his face.

“Baby,” he said, and smiled.

* * *

Two bedrolls on the smooth industrial floor made a pad almost as soft as the mattresses in their barracks — and infinitely more comfortable than mossy rocks in a planetside cavern. Even when they weren’t wrapped up in one another, there was more than enough room for both of them on the floor of the supply closet.

“You asleep?” Slip whispered.

“Mmm.” FN-2187 stirred, lifting his head from Slip’s bare chest and gazed at him. “Not really.”

“You’re going to be exhausted if you don’t get some rest.”

“I’m having a hard time caring about that.” He stroked the contour of Slip’s slender shoulder and sighed. “This feels more important than rest.”

“We can’t do it every night,” said Slip. “You can bet Zeroes isn’t going to cover for us. But when Nines is on duty, we could do it sometimes.”

“Without the chem-cas meds, we’re going to want it. Need it, I guess. And other things are going to change. We just don’t know how, yet. Pi said she will monitor us and we’ll figure it out.”

“Why do you think she’s helping us? Seems like a big risk. Nines, I can understand; he’s on our fire-team.”

FN-2187 thought about the expression on Pi’s face when she’d spoken about Tonic. “I think maybe she and her fire-teammate FN-1358 are… close. Like this, with each other.” He shrugged. “I’m just guessing. Don’t tell anybody I said that. I don’t want to get them in more trouble.”

_“We_ might,” said Slip. “Have trouble.”

FN-2187 nodded. “We might. It’s going to be complicated, hiding this from command. From everybody.” As he shook his head, his cheek brushed against Slip’s chest. Both were now smooth from the standard depilatory that was part of their hygiene regimen. Even that felt strange. “The worst part is not being able to touch you when you’re wearing the body armor.”

“I actually think the worst part is not seeing your face. I can’t tell how you feel with your helmet on. I guess it didn’t matter before, not seeing your eyes, your mouth, but now…” Slip’s hand came to rest on his back, pulling him closer. “I didn’t realize how important those things are.”

When FN-2187 shivered, it wasn’t from cold, but Slip reached across the floor to get his bodysuit anyway. FN-2187 heard the crunch as Slip’s fingers met the object in his pocket.

“What’s this?”

“Oh…” He felt his heart accelerate as Slip pulled out Pi’s lubricant packet. “I’m… not really sure yet. Pi said we would want it.”

“Why would we…?“ Slip’s words trailed off, and he sat there holding the packet between his two fingers, his jaw slack. His eyes did not meet FN-2187’s, but flickered back and forth between the wall and the item he was holding.

“I can think of a few things?” FN-2187 said, trying to keep his voice steady. “But I’m not sure what _you_ would think of them.”

Slip came back to sit on the bedroll, edging as close as he could get to FN-2187 without actually sitting on top of him. He wasn’t the only one who was trembling.

“I guess if she gave this to you, we’re not the only ones who’ve ever considered it. But… I can think of a few things, too.”

FN-2187 felt his smile competing with his blush for space on his cheeks. “Uh… yeah?”

Slip nodded. “Since I did that thing with my tongue and my fingers, and you — well, you liked it, I think.”

He could only nod back. Slip’s contemplative expression made him feel a little faint.

“I think…” Slip took his hand, holding it between both of his. “I think we should sleep. And save this for another night. I want to be able to give it my full attention.”

“Yeah. That’s fine.” He nodded again. “Of course.”

FN-2187 wasn’t sure he was _ever_ going to sleep after the ideas that conversation had inspired, but Slip’s arms around him gave him a sense of calm. He rested his head on Slip’s bicep, closing his eyes, and allowed himself to feel… _hope._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extreme angst. I think there may be future chapters to this story, once I figure out what's going on with "TR-8R," but for now, [this is enough backstory](http://nubianamy.tumblr.com/post/137061231409/i-needed-more-backstory-for-finn-than-the-bits) for me to go on with telling what happened with Finn and Poe. I think it will not be pretty (but it will be sexy). 
> 
> There's a [soundtrack to this series now](http://8tracks.com/nubianamy/all-i-know-is-who-i-ve-become). The more I listen to it, the more I'm convinced this will be a jedistormpilot story somehow, but I'm not sure what it will look like yet.

They didn’t do it every night. FN-2187 was more cautious than Slip. But every night, when he returned to their barracks after his sanitation shift, he would see Slip’s face when he took his helmet off, his eyes following him around, and it was almost impossible to say no. Whatever changes Pi had made to their supplements certainly hadn’t dampened their desire for one another.

The hardest part, as it happened, wasn’t keeping their actions from Captain Phasma. It was the way that Nines and Zeroes had become obviously, acutely aware of what was going on — and clearly didn’t understand it one bit.

“It wasn’t anything other than what you expected, baby,” Slip whispered to him one night in the supply closet. “You knew they weren’t going to get it.”

“No.” FN-2187 sighed, “but I feel like there should be a way that we could _make_ them get it. Something to make Zeroes stop giving us those dirty looks. I almost feel worse about him than I do about Nines, and he’s the one who’s covering for us at night.”

Slip slid a hand down the center of his chest, to rest on his abdomen. “Do you think _you_ would have believed it, before you’d felt… any of this?”

Even so soon after completing their most recent activities, Slip’s touch made him feel quivery inside. He shook his head. “I don’t. I didn’t.” He let out an unwilling laugh. “Some days I still don’t quite believe it.”

“I know. So just — don’t push it. They’ll come around.”

It didn’t seem to be happening with any speed. Every time FN-2187 approached him about covering up another one of their nighttime disappearances, Nines continued to nod, bewildered and somewhat scared.

The only time he’d ever attempted to talk to Zeroes about it, the look of anger and disgust on his face had been so acute that FN-2187 thought Zeroes might actually punch him. Instead, he got in real close against FN-2187’s cheek.

“It’s not okay,” he told FN-2187 in a low voice. “For the two of you to be gone like that. We’re supposed to be together, all of us. That’s what makes us strong. _That’s_ what a fire-troop needs.”

“I know.” He seized Zeroes’ arm in one hand. “But you have to understand… we wouldn’t be risking your safety if it wasn’t important. Please, can’t you trust us?”

Zeroes glanced over his shoulder, as though Phasma might be right there next to them, listening. “How can I? You’ve taken more liberties with the code of conduct than I know what to do with.” He scowled at FN-2187. “You’ve got to let this go.”

FN-2187 had no response to that, nothing that would make sense to Zeroes. All he could do was walk away before they came to blows, and continue doing his job as best as he could.

It wasn’t easy. The things he felt, off the regulation of his old dose of supplements, were often intense and distracting. In addition to an increased temper, FN-2187 found himself watching the movements of other troopers, their bodies, the way they shifted and bent and brushed up against one another. Even through the armor, it was compelling. With some frequency, he’d get an erection even without any other stimulation, and he’d have no recourse other than to wait for it to subside.

He wasn’t sure how to address this with Pi in their first medical checkup. But just as she had been when FN-2187 had originally asked her about modifying his dose of supplements, she turned out to be unconcerned.

“It’s normal,” she assured him. “Ordinary, unregulated humans get sexually stimulated all the time. We’ve just forgotten what that’s like, off the chemical castration cocktail. It’s not _bad_ for us to experience it. So if this is still working for you —“

“Yes,” FN-2187 said quickly. She nodded soberly.

“I told Tonic,” she said, after a pause. “About the two of you. She thinks I’m risking too much by helping you. Risking what _we_ have.” She watched his face. “Do you understand?”

“I — yeah. I understand. I won’t tell anybody. Neither of us will.” He hesitated. “How long have…?”

Now she smiled, busying herself with putting supplies back into storage. “Since pilot school. I caught a stomach virus and went off solid foods for a week. The medic on duty wasn’t paying very close attention to my hormone levels. Tonic came every day to visit me, to keep me company. We ended up with enough time alone together to discover what we’d been missing, and she was smart enough to figure out what we could do about it.”

FN-2187 swallowed. “Six _years_ ago?”

“There’s others, too. You think you’re the only one to have these feelings? Everybody used to. People still write stories about them and use the old names. _Romance, passion. Love._ But they’re all really just the effects of different levels of chemicals.”

“Then why don’t I feel this way about everybody?” FN-2187 wanted to know. “I mean, I — maybe I have thoughts about others, but… Slip…”

“He’s special,” Pi said quietly. FN-2187 nodded, and she shrugged. “I don’t have all the answers. I wish I could tell you more.”

He shrugged back, and gave her a smile. “I’m grateful for this much. Thank you. I know it’s a risk.”

“It is,” she said. “And I know exactly why it’s worth it.”

* * *

Pi monitored Slip’s reaction to the alteration in his daily cocktail, as well as FN-2187’s own, but it wasn’t until several weeks had gone by that she spoke with him directly about the results.

He arrived at medical as requested, waiting for her to be ready to talk. She had a good poker face, but the moment he saw it, he knew something wasn’t right. He took off his helmet and sat down across from her.

“Tell me,” he said immediately.

She sighed, her eyes on the floor. “Slip… I saw his reaction time dip. During your hand-to-hand combat drills, this week and last. I imagine you saw it too.”

FN-2187 nodded, swallowing on a dry throat. “He was a little distracted.”

“It was more than that.” Pi looked at him until he nodded again, reluctantly, then went on. “So I dug into his medical history. I had to go back to childhood, before training.” She handed him the datapad. “There were discrepancies in his biochemistry. Discrepancies they treated in his daily cocktail.”

FN-2187 stared at the first few lines of text, scanning them quickly, then again, more slowly. “A genetic anomaly?”

“Devron’s ataxia,” she said. “It’s a mutation in a mitochondrial gene that leads to a defective expression of the haataxin protein. A rare inherited neurodegenerative disease. If gone untreated, it’s characterized by progressive damage of the nervous system. Slip’s was caught at birth, of course, but without continual supplements of haataxin, he will eventually experience a delayed disease onset.”

He couldn’t rationalize the pounding of his heart or the sour sickness in his stomach. All he could do was try to calm himself down and try not to be sick. Eventually, he managed to say, “And what does that look like?”

Pi spoke softly, gently. “Progressive disability, with degeneration of the spinal cord and peripheral nerves that leads to muscle weakness, sensory loss, balance deficits and lack of voluntary coordination of muscle movements. Eventually, dependence on a wheelchair and reduced life expectancy.” She gave her head a little shake. “As much as that means for troopers.”

It was a cheap joke, but he smiled weakly anyway. The average trooper’s life expectancy was less than two years following their first assignment. They all knew the cost of becoming an Imperial trooper — and FN-2187 didn’t know one person who wouldn’t have begged to be in his position.

“How long until he would start showing symptoms?”

“He already has. It’ll be subtle for a while, probably not enough to slow him down so much that you and your fire-troop couldn’t cover for him. But it’s not going to get any better. I’d estimate six to eight months before it becomes obvious. And, FN-2187…” She touched his hand. “It’s not reversible.”

He had to close his eyes, rather than face the sympathy in her face. It wasn’t something he was used to seeing, not from anyone. The way it made him feel was almost worse than the rending fear of her diagnosis.

“Are you going to tell him, or am I?”

She sighed. “I already did. Last week. He said it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going back on the cocktail.”

FN-2187’s eyes flew open. “What? He — he can’t do that!”

“I thought you should know, but it’s his decision.”

“Pi, it’s going to _kill_ him!” he shouted.

She held on tighter to his hand. With the other, she handed him a cloth. He wasn’t sure why at first. Then he felt the tears slipping off his chin and onto his arm. He mopped furiously at his eyes and nose.

“Since when are you afraid of death?” She sounded so reasonable, but he was past caring about that.

“I’m not scared of _my_ death!” He dropped Pi’s hand and stood up, pacing the length of the room and back. “Look, this is — this can’t happen. Just put him back on the meds. Don’t tell him, just — do it.”

She shook her head immediately, just as he knew she would. “I won’t. If he wants to end his own life tomorrow, he can do that, FN-2187. You can’t stop him.” She watched him walk back and forth once more, then stood to intercept him. “And the truth is, your fire-troop will be deployed in less than a month.”

“So?” He heard his own voice shaking, and he hated it. He stopped where he was, rather than run her over, and stood there, clenching his fists hard enough to dig bloody half-moons into his palm.

“So,” she said, still softly, “you know you’ve got this time together. Give _him_ a chance to decide what’s important to him.”

He didn’t let her touch him as he stood there, scowling at the floor. She didn’t seem like she wanted to. Eventually, he handed the datapad back to her and walked out.

* * *

FN-2187 managed to avoid being alone with Slip for the rest of the evening. They ate dinner with Nines and Zeroes and two other fire-troops. He was even able to ignore the concerned looks they were getting from Pi and Tonic from the adjacent table.

It was just before lights-out that he met Slip in the corridor.

“Tonight,” FN-2187 said, before Slip could say anything.

Slip closed his mouth and nodded, his eyes wide and startled. That was all.

Nines took the watch without comment. They went separately to the supply closet. Slip knew the route as well as FN-2187 did now. When he arrived, FN-2187 let him in.

The way Slip was looking at him, the _love_ on his face, it drove FN-2187 into a kind of furious action, kissing him hard enough to leave bruises. The noises Slip made, and the way he grappled with FN-2187’s arms, made FN-2187 think it wasn’t entirely one-sided.

“Your skin,” FN-2187 said, more of a demand than a request.

Slip complied without hesitation, stripping off his jumpsuit, and with a few impassioned shoves, FN-2187 had him on his hands and knees on the bedroll. He sent a look over his shoulder at FN-2187, and it wasn’t one of distress.

FN-2187’s fingers slid over the curve of his thigh and came to rest on his lower back. Slip let out a low moan.

“Like this?”

FN-2187 nodded, struggling for breath as he undid the fastenings on his own jumpsuit. He draped his body over Slip’s, feeling the heat and slide of their sweaty skin, and had to pause there for several moments to contain the sobs that threatened to break loose.

“Baby,” Slip whispered. Then he said it again, but now sounded more like a groan. FN-2187 shifted lower on his knees, pressing up with his hips. “Oh — are you —?”

FN-2187 thought it would be something he would have asked for, this invasion of Slip’s body with something other than a cautious finger or his probing tongue. Instead, he reached for the packet of lubricant and coated his hand with it, feeling nearly desperate to be closer, closer, as close as he could be. To be _inside_ him. He pressed with one finger, thrust inside, then withdrew and added a second. Slip’s moan erupted into a gasp, and only then did FN-2187 hesitate.

“Tell me you’re okay,” he begged.

“I’m okay,” Slip said, and then, without a pause, “again, _please.”_

_That’s not what I meant,_ he wanted to say, but his body was already answering, his fingers driving into Slip again, harder this time. _I mean, tell me you’re_ ** _okay._** _Tell me you’re going to be okay. I’m not going to have this with you only to kill you with it._

He had to use his fingers to guide himself inside Slip, and by then they were both shuddering. FN-2187 made himself wait, the pulsing of his own body in counterpoint to the contraction of Slip’s muscles around him.

“Not too scary?” he ventured to ask.

Slip burst out an hysterical laugh. “Terrifying,” he affirmed, “and — don’t stop.”

For some reason, that made it easier to continue. When he pressed all the way into Slip, then nudged deeper, and deeper still, it set them both into a cascade, one that sent them within minutes into a messy, urgent climax. FN-2187 collapsed beside Slip, breathing hard with more than just exertion.

“I can’t believe,” Slip mumbled, his face pressed into the bedroll, “we waited this long to do that.”

FN-2187 couldn’t reply; he just rolled closer and rested his face against Slip’s back, feeling his strength, his self-control. It was hard to imagine he would ever be any other way.

“We had other things to do that were important,” he said at last. He placed a hand on Slip’s body, watching it rise and fall with his breath, and breathed along with him before gathering up the nerve to ask the next question. “What _is_ … important? To you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… someday. Do you ever think about someday?”

It wasn’t a concept that came up much for Imperial troopers, but after a moment, Slip nodded slowly. “I think about it. Do you?”

“I have been. More, now.” _Now that I have something to hope for,_ he didn’t say.

Slip rolled over to face him. It was even more intense, in a way, than being inside of him, but FN-2187 didn’t look away. He figured he owed Slip that.

“I care about our team,” Slip said. “That’s important. Brotherhood. Loyalty. Teamwork. The things we’ve always had. You know.” He touched FN-2187’s shoulder. “Belonging. The way we always have, together.”

FN-2187 nodded, feeling the tears start again, but Slip didn’t seem to be upset by them. He used his thumb to brush away the wetness on FN-2187’s cheek.

“Duty,” FN-2187 said haltingly, and sniffed. “Tradition.”

“Destiny,” added Slip. He smiled when FN-2187 rolled his eyes. “I know _you_ don’t believe in it.”

“It seems kind of childish. But…” FN-2187 shrugged, still holding his gaze. “I’m not sure I can explain this any other way.”

“This connection,” Slip murmured, nodding. “This, the way I… love you.”

He hugged FN-2187 while he cried, kissing his cheek. They didn’t say anything more that night, not about Devron’s ataxia or their questionable future or anything else. They just held one another until they fell asleep.


End file.
